In Which Hell Descended Upon Nornalhorst

[Deleted1217574User]

Warning! Spoilers if you use "Myths and Legends."

Also, sorry for the weird spacing (or lack thereof...) for some reason it messes up the formatting when I copied from Word. If I try to fix it, it adds some weird tag that would be even more trouble to get rid of.

In which Hell descended uponNornalhorst.

 

 

Name's Mellith. Drow. Female, ofcourse. Came to Cyrodiil with just my armor, a sword, and a book. Myths and Legends, the book's called.Doubt you've heard of it. Just a few copies in existence. Though I hear you canget the whole set in Cyrodiil. Anyway.

 

I'm a weapon collector. Swordsto be exact. I take them back to the Matriarch. Unless I find something I like.Then I keep it. One sword in the book caught my eye. Blade of Loss, it wascalled. Not the most poetic of names, but then again... Poetry's not exactlythe point of most swords, now is it.

 

I sat down, pulling out my book.Bandits in Cyrodiil are pushovers. I walked up right behind him and chopped offhis head before he even noticed I was there. It's amazing, the power ofcrab-walking is.

 

The rest of the fort wentsimilarly. I wouldn't be surprised if they were happy to die. Didn't seem likethere was a whole lot to do. I mean, one can only read A Brief History of the Empire so many times before you get sick ofit. For me, that number of times was between zero and one. But, now that Ithink about it, these bandits may well have been illiterate. Ah well, made nodifference for me.

 

One of them noticed me, though.I oughta give him credit. He managed to get his best obscenity out at me, aboutfighting mud crabs more fearsome than me. What is it with Cyrodiilians and mudcrabs? Seems to be all they ever wanna talk about.

 

Anyway, I'd hate to meet thismud crab in battle, 'cause that elf's life didn't last much longer. So, now,I'm just writing this in some journal that I happened to find in my backpackwhen I stepped off the boat. I'm eating an apple I found in a crate. I guessthey were low on supplies; about ten bandits living off an apple, a loaf ofbread, some cheese, beer, and A BriefHistory. It's enough to turn me to a life of crime, too. Anyway, I'll writemore as things happen. I don't imagine there's too much more in this fort...Bunch o' bloody raiders probably cleared it out long ago. Oh well, the treasurewill come back. It always seems to. You'd think maybe eventually, someone wouldlearn to stop sticking their treasure in all these random chests, no?

 

Did some exploring down to thesouthwest of Skingrad. Not too many Ayleid ruins. Whoever wrote this bookmust've been an idiot if he couldn't figure out where to go. Probably a woodelf. That'd explain it.

 

Name of the place is"Nornalhorst." Dunno what that means, I just sorta know the name.Cyrodilic ruins are nice like that. You just kinda know the name when you comeup on them. It makes giving directions a lot easier.

 

I asked around, turns outthere's some vampires in Nornalhorst. My favorite. I love frying vampiresalmost as much as I love running them through. And I have more than one spelltucked up my sleeve... I was a bit apprehensive about it, though. I haven'tbeen using conjuration very long, just started really. And the guy that showedme how to make the spell seemed kinda shady... Bright guy, though. I don'tthink he'd steer me wrong. Gave me some sort of warning, something about the"fiery wrath of hell itself." I wonder if it could take a mud crab?

 

I'm standing outside Nornalhorstnow. Killed a couple more bandits. It's a shame, really. If they had the stonesto go in and maybe shoot up a couple vampires, they could be living the highlife. But no, it's a better plan to hang around outside and hope that somereally, really lost traveler comes by. Oh well, their loss. Of life, that is.Well, here goes.

 

My God. Fiery wrath of hell,indeed. I'm sitting in an inn in Skingrad right now. May the Nine or Daedra orwhoever you worship have mercy on the next poor soul that goes in that place.

 

It started off well enough. Iwandered around, stabbed some vampires, typical Ayleid ruin affair. Found thesword right off the bat. Boy, is she something. The Matriarch will love her.Honestly, anyone with a rusty dagger and that can sneak past a brick wallcould've gotten it. The vampires had it in some sort of shrine, but thereweren't even any guarding it. Or using it. Bloody brilliant, these lot. Theirintelligence is practically radiant.

 

I stuck the sword in mybackpack. I still can't get over that! No matter what, I can just seem to keepsticking things in there. And it was feeling light enough. "Why not keeplooking around?" I asked myself. I didn't have a good answer to myself, soI went deeper in. And that's where all hell broke loose. Well, almost.

 

It wasn't long until I foundmyself surrounded. Six or so slashing, smashing, hissing vampires is a bit toomuch even for me to handle. I shouted something in my high-pitched, girly voiceand slammed a fireball into one. It hurt, but he just looked more pissed. Somuch for humans being combustible and all that. Especially vampires. Cyrodiliccremations must take hours...

 

The odds were stacked againstme. I'd felled three or so, but I'd taken several blows. No matter how manypotions I chugged, the wounds couldn't magically heal fast enough. And myrapier was starting to wear down.

 

"Time out!" I called.The vampires stopped, confused. "Now, just a second." I set mybackpack on the floor and began rummaging around. I brushed aside severalclaymores, some bows, and a couple suits of armor. Oops! I blushed, as Iaccidentally moved my seven different colors of panties for all to see.Finally, I got what I was looking for. I carefully maneuvered my rapier intothe backpack, where it fit nicely between a set of ebony boots and a steeltower shield. I gripped the Blade of Loss.

 

I carefully repositioned myselfso that the maces and axes and swords and whatnot were still in appropriatelocation in regards to myself as when I had initiated the combat-pause.

 

"Time in!" I called,and battle resumed. Between my fireballs and this new sword, I managed to takeout a couple more, but with the reinforcements that had showed up, there werestill seven or so vampires left. And I was feeling weak. If I had to give it ascore between one and 874, it was easily a 73, or thereabouts. That's when Iremembered my spell.

 

"You move like a pregnantcow!" I shouted -- My first attempt at Cyrodilic vernacular. I then raisedmy hand over my head and clenched my fist. I shuddered at the power that flowedthrough me at that fist clench. With a mighty roar, a demon, like something fromthe depths of Hell itself, as promised, appeared. A mighty, flaming sword washeld aloft in his hand. I cheered as he alternatively flung fireballs and swungat the vampires. Only a sole battlemage, clad in steel armor remained. Ipointed at the vampire.

 

"Go get 'im,Balr-Ahhh!" I barely had time to bring up my sword to block in time. Goodthing I was adept at fending off sword blows from a massive creature threetimes my size.

 

"I'm on your side!" Itold the Balrog. He seemed to disagree. He flung a fireball at me, which Ibarely managed to avoid. Maybe I should've listened to that Midas guy'swarning. I ran, hopping up and down like a demented rabbit. Fireballs hit thewall on all sides of me. I dove through a doorway and leaped behind a coffer,expecting to hear the sound of the Balrog crashing through the stone any minutenow. On the other side of the room, the battlemage sent bolts of lightninghurling at my head, but I was concealed behind the stone slab. I turned around.

 

Just my luck! The Balrog seemedto be employing some cunning plan, no doubt forged in Hellfire. It appeared tobe running in place, its massive body partially making it through the doorway.Most of it didn't, though.

 

"What foul trickery isthis?" I wondered aloud.

 

"Why! Won't! You! Die?!"Was the response I received from the battlemage. Perhaps I need to brush up onmy Cyrodilic; these conversations make little sense to me. Just as I began tocontemplate what it could possibly be doing, I found out the nature of theBalrog's plans. It seems that by running in place long enough, the monstercreated a dimensional door through which it was able to travel, and reappearbehind me. At least, that's my best guess. Regardless, I leapt out of the way,toward the vampire, who was promptly incinerated. Spinning around, I decided tohave a go at the Balrog. Even injured, I was quick! I could easily take oneenemy, even one this size!

 

Weaving past the fireballs, Iran in close and swung a few times. No visible effect. I hopped back, launchinga frost-bolt at the Balrog's face. Same thing, no effect. It was then that Ibegan to realize that my life could end here. I pressed myself against apillar. The Balrog ran around it, toward me. I kept running in circles aroundthe pillar. I became so caught up in our insane deathmatch ofring-around-the-rosy that I realized I was passing the creature. It was like agiant cat, toying with its prey. But not me! I was too smart. I sheathed mysword, removed all my clothes, and began running. I just run so much fasternaked! It's like my backpack doesn't weigh me down at all.

 

I sprinted past traps,jump/gliding past those I couldn't, and eventually made it into the sunlightagain, where I promptly dressed myself. I had escaped with the Blade, butunleashed a horror upon Cyrodiil. May Akatosh or one of those gods have mercyupon anything still inside...

 

The rest of my trip back toSkingrad was uneventful. I paused only long enough to whack at my sword with ahammer a few times. There, all better. Now, as I sit in my rented room, I endmy writings for now. I've an appointment with an alchemist downstairs in acouple hours. He wants to see me about some green herb?